Angels Revealed
by brunette-in-black
Summary: Jaclyn-Christina Fray. Clary's big sister, ready to kick some ass protecting her sister or get her ass kicked. She'll do anything to protect her. And she's just as blind to her heratige as Clary. What happens with Jaclyn in the mix? Mortal Instruments.
1. Chapter 1

Angels Revealed

+Chapter 1+

I glared at the older woman in front of me, curly tendrils of strawberry blond hair fell into my endlessly blue eyes, but I did not shift my gaze. My feet were planted firmly on the ground, arms crossed over my chest causing my shirt to ride up ever so slightly revealing on my lower-back what started this altercation in the first place, and my hands were balled up into fists. My hands were closed so tightly that my knuckles were turning white.

"Jaclyn-Christina Fray, I am very disappointed in you." The woman, Jocelyn Fray, my mother, said anger evident in her voice.

"It's my body, I can put anything I want on it," I said in my quiet, tranquil voice. "I'm seventeen, practically an adult; I don't see what the big deal is. I got a tattoo on _my _body, just a little swirling on my lower-back. It wasn't like I dragged Clary in there with me and let her get inked too." She looked livid at my last comment.

"The big deal, Jaclyn is that you deliberately did something I asked you not to." She spoke slowly and I cocked an eyebrow. _What is this, she treating me like I'm a little kid? She's reprimanding me about something I did to _my _body? My mother has issues!_

"You _asked _me, not to. I figured since you simply asked that it was a request more than a demand. You have to be more specific next time, Ma." I replied cheekily. She groaned in agitation. "Anyway, Xander told me I didn't have the guts to get a tattoo and I was more likely to jump off a bridge because I would be too terrified of my _mommy _finding out. You know I can never turn down a challenge, it's my fatal flaw if-you-will." I told her with my toothy grin, leaving out the fact that I _have_ jumped off a bridge, multiple times. She might have gotten all blotchy with anger from this tattoo, I'm pretty sure she would never allow me to leave the house again if I ever told her about that. Almost positive actually.

"I don't like that boy," she said in a motherly tone and I rolled my eyes.

"So am I grounded?" I asked glumly and she nodded. I scowled, no sports; gymnastics well that would be interesting to try in this apartment, no kickboxing, no skateboards, and definitely, no partying. It really sucks getting grounded during the summer when there's nothing to break up the day.

"I don't want you hanging around with that Xander boy," Mom began, but I pulled a face at that.

My scowl deepened as I spoke, "Mom you can't be serious, I made the decision! He didn't do this!" I said turning and lifting up the back of my thin black tank top.

She shook her head. She wasn't even acknowledging my little outburst. "If you're going to go anywhere it will be with Clary, spend some sisterly time with her Lynnie. That's the only way you are to leave the inside of this walls." Same old, same old. Whenever I get grounded, I no longer have freedom to be out on my own. I get what I refer to as _babysitting duty_. I love my sister, it's not that I don't love spending time with her, but half the things I do when she's not around I would kill her of she ever did. I am a hypocrite like that and mom knows it. So when I'm with Clary I keep myself out of trouble and her.

I stalked into my room, slamming the door none too gently behind me. Two beds. One bureau and a closet that had most of the contents scattered all over the floor. Clary and I share this room and sad to say, we are not and I suppose never will be tidy people. I don't remember the last time I saw the carpet since the time we've lived here and it's been before I could remember. That has got to be bad.

I threw random articles of clothing off my bed, clearing it so I could lie on my rumpled sheets without further lumps from a denim skirt, t-shirts, and a flip-flop. I buried my nose in a book, my mom has no idea I own and wouldn't approve that I read, but a little fantasy never killed anybody. Werewolves, vampires, witches, demons, and fairies I understand aren't real, but I find it fascinating to read about the fictitious beings that I will never have the dismay or crossing paths with.

Mom squashed the fairytales of fairy godmothers and little talking animals in those Disney movies. Anything fantasy she didn't want us to delve in it whatsoever, I found it weird. All other mothers read those stories about majestic adventures with talking wolves that tricked little girls into thinking he was an elderly woman swallowing the poor girl. Then the hunter comes along and cuts her out, giving the effective happily ever after children love to hear. But not ours, we never got the stories before bed.

I let the book I was reading consume me. It pulled me into the world. I was immersed in the pages of paperback clamped in my fingers. At some point I slipped into unconsciousness before I even had time to put the book down so I woke to the book resting on my chest and my sister just come around. Her rusty red locks fanned out on her white pillow case and she shifted to her side as her lashes fluttered a bit before they sluggishly dragged open.

"When d'you get in last night?" I asked her. I yawned, dog-eared the page I left off on and wedged it in the space between my bed and the wall.

"About twelve-thirty," She must have gotten the Spanish Inquisition from Mom. First one of her daughters walks in with a tattoo and the other comes in at that time. She was already warmed up from our little confrontation.

"A little late, huh?" I asked smiling, "Past your bedtime wasn't it?" I asked her and she rolled her green eyes.

"Like you wouldn't have done worse." Clary quipped. But she had that uneasy look on her face; Mom really must have ripped into her last night. Giving her a lecture that was designed to make her feel extremely guilty. Telling her how much she worried – I don't doubt it – and that she and I are the bane of her existence…so to speak.

"I did," I told her as I stretched in bed, knowing what happened hours before she dragged her feet through the door I was being reprimanded. She quirked an eyebrow.

"What'd you do, Jaclyn-Christina?" She mocked with a smile. I smiled and shifted onto my stomach, kicked the sheet down the sheet that covered me, and lifted the bottom of my black tank top. I heard her gasp as she saw it. The pretty black swirl on the small of my back – the very base, just high enough above the band of my shorts reach.

"Nuh-uh," Clary said in disbelief. One thing artsy Clary and I have always had in common under the few things we actually do was that both of us have always wanted to get a tattoo. It's been about nine years that I've wanted one and I finally got it. "Does it mean anything?" She asked.

"It means peace. I know lame, but when I was getting it I was thinking of peace overcoming all the evils in this world, but then I remembered that there is never peace anywhere like in those corny movies and the real world isn't like that. So it remains, lame." I said and she laughed.

"You're grounded aren't you?" Clary asked.

I sat up throwing my legs over the side of the bed. "You know it, doll." I told her lightly. "So are _you _grounded?" I asked.

"You just want to know so you can invite yourself into any plans that I have." She said and I smiled, "You know me too well, Clary." I replied to my little sister's accusation.

"I've known you for fifteen years, I would hope so." Clary remarked.

"Well I hope she isn't grounding you, because babe you're my get out of jail free card. If you're grounded too, we're both stuck here."

"What you don't want to just spend _sisterly _time with me, here, it has to be outside these walls?" She joked.

"Yeah, preferably where it doesn't smell, what is that smell anyway?" I asked and she laughed shaking her head.

I slid off my bed and tip toed throwing the door open, Clary following suit. We padded out into the apartment and there seemed not to be anyone home beside us. Both Clary and I let out a collective sigh. We found a not from Mom, telling us that she was out running errands with Luke and that she would be back later. We've got some time to kill.

After we went through the usual morning routine and we both showered and dressed we were at a loss for what to do.

I sat my light faded ripped jean clad butt on the couch and lost myself in a book my mom wouldn't mind me read if she found me with it. I was so into the classic that I apparently didn't even hear the phone ring and only noticed someone was on the phone when she plopped her petite form right onto the book that lay in my lap. She smiled wolfishly as she spoke into the phone. "Sign of her questionable taste, if you ask me." Clary said into the phone.

"Get your big butt off of me!" I complained.

"My butt is not big!" She argued. "Oh, Simon says 'hi' and he says you're welcome to come to the poetry slam, Eric is performing." She told me.

"I'll be there if you will Clary, unfortunately, but I'll be out of the house none-the-less." Just think about the bright side, and not Eric with his pathetic attempt at poetry.

"Get off me Clary," I said and she just shifted off me and into the spot of the couch beside me. I immediately got back into my book, but was more alert this time and Clary leaned her head on my shoulder.

Clary straightened in her seat and grabbed a book opening to a random page and I buried myself even further into my book. Mom recognized reading as a sacred pastime and usually wouldn't interrupt us even to yell.

The door opened with a thump and Luke came in. His arms full of boxes of what looked like pasteboard, but when he out them down I could see they were just boxes laying flat. My brows furrowed in confusion for a few seconds and I just shrugged it off.

"Hey, Luke," Clary greeted, the man who has practically been family to us beside our mom.

"Hi, Luke," I said and offered a smile, "Where's Mom?" I asked.

"Parking the truck," he said straightening his lanky frame with a groan. He dressed in his usual a flannel shirt, old jeans, and a pair of bent gold rimmed spectacles that sat askew on the bridge of his nose. "Remind me again why this building has no service elevator?"

"Because it's old," I said immediately, and Clary finished, "and has _character,_" with a sarcastic edge. Luke grinned.

"What are the boxes for?" I inquired and just like that his grin vanished. "Your mother wanted to pack up some things," he said, avoiding our quizzical gazes.

"What things?" Clary asked.

He gave an airy wave. "Extra stuff lying around the house. Getting in the way. You know she never throws anything out. So what are you up to? Studying?" He plucked the book out of her hand and read aloud, _"The world still teems with those motley beings whom a more sober philosophy has discarded. Fairies and goblins, ghosts and demons still hover about—" _He lowered the book and looked at her over his glasses. "Is this for school?" He asked and I took the liberty to answer.

"_The Golden Bough_? Luke she wouldn't be reading that in school, it's mostly grueling books that one likes, or ever wants to read." I said with a smirk, "And plus school doesn't start for another few weeks and I'll be graduating this year and moving away the day it is possible!" I said and he scowled at that.

"Oh and that's mom's book." I added as an after thought. Clary took the book back from him.

"I had a feeling."

She dropped it back on the table. "Luke?"

"Uh-huh?" The book was long forgotten as he rummaged through his tool kit. "Ah, here it is," he pulled out and orange plastic tape gun and gazed at it with deep satisfaction.

"What would you do if you saw someone no one else could see?" Clary asked him and my eyes snapped to her. _What is she talking about?_

The tape gun fell out of his hands and hit the tile around the hearth. He knelt to pick it up, not looking at her. "You mean if I were the only witness to a crime, that sort of thing?"

"No. I mean, there were other people around, but you were the only one who could see something. As if it were invisible to everyone, but you." Clary confirmed.

He hesitated, still kneeling, the dented tape gripped in his hand.

"I know it sounds crazy," Clary ventured nervously, "but…"

He turned to her, his eyes rested on her with a firm affection. "Clary you're an artist, like your mother, even your sister in her way." He glanced at me, then back to Clary. "That means you see the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty in the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy—just different. There's nothing wrong with being different."

I gently bumped my shoulder into hers and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, "Take that at face value, toots. I'm a firm fan of the saying _seeing is believing_ granted I'm the wild and crazy one here, but if you call yourself crazy you forgot all about me!" I said with a smile and she cracked up laughing.

Once we calmed down Clary asked Luke, "If Dad had lived, do you think he would have been an artist too?"

Luke looked taken aback, but all too soon for my liking my mom walked in all her paint splattered jeans glory. She handed Luke back his keys and offered a small smile, "Thanks for bringing the boxes up." I looked on uninterested and rubbed Clary's arm knowing she has begun her obsessing just about now. "Sorry it took me so long to find a space. There must be a million people at the park today—"

"Mom?" Clary interrupted. "What are the boxes for?"

Mom bit her lip. Luke flicked his eyes toward us and mutely urging Mom forward. With a nervous twitch of her wrist she tucked a dangling strand of hair behind her ear and joined us on the couch. Both of us shifted slightly to face her.

"Is this about last night?" Clary asked.

"No," Mom said quickly and then hesitated, "Maybe a little. You shouldn't have done what you did last night, Clary. And Jaie I still can't grasp that you did that. You both know better."

"And I already apologized. What is this about? If you're grounding me, get it over with." Clary said.

"I'm not grounding you." She told Clary and my brows furrowed in confusion. She glanced at Luke who just shook his head.

"Just tell them Jocelyn," he said and my eyebrows scrunched closer.

"Could you not talk about us like we're not right here?" I said angrily. "And what do you mean tell us? Tell us what?" I asked.

Mom sighed, "We're going on vacation."

Clary and I still sat stiffly. "That's what this is about? You're going on vacation?" We sank back in the cushions a little bit, "I don't get it. Why the big production?"

"I don't think you understand. I meant we're all going on vacation. The four of us—you girls, me, and Luke. We're going to the farmhouse." She said.

I freed my arm from Clary's shoulder not looking pleased. I have a bad feeling about this. "Something's wrong." I said and Mom glanced at me, "Nothing's wrong, Lynnie." She was lying.

"How long are we staying there?" Clary asked agitated as well.

"For the rest of the summer," Mom said and I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from saying something I would love to say now and be punished for later, "I brought the boxes in case Clary you wanted to pack your paint supplies and Lynnie your photography things and your books."

"For the _rest of the summer?_" Clary sat upright with indignation, as did I. "I can't do that Mom, I have plans—Simon and I were going to have a back-to-school party, and I've got a bunch of meetings with my art group, and ten more classes with Tisch—"

"I'm sorry about Tisch. But the other things can be canceled. Simon will understand, and so will your art group." With the implacability in Mom's tone Clary realized what I had the moment she started, she's serious.

"But I paid for those classes! I saved up all year! You promised." She cried. This was a really big deal for her.

I spoke calmly. Whenever anything goes wrong I get coolly calm, "Mom what about my job at the Coffee Bean, if I leave my position I won't have it when I come back and my photography group." I said normally except without the joking edge that I usually have.

"I'm sorry about your job, Lynnie, I'm sure you'll find something else and your photography group will be able to survive without you." Mom talking in almost the same coolly calm tone.

Clary couldn't take it as she whirled on Luke, "Tell her, tell her it isn't fair!"

His head jerked from how it was looking out the window, "She's your mother. It's her decision to make."

I sat on the edge of the couch clutching it in my fingers, my knuckles turning white. "I don't get it." Clary said and turned to Mom, "Why?"

"I have to get away, Clary," the corners of Mom's mouth was trembling. "I need the peace, the quiet, to paint. And money is tight right now—"

"So sell some more of Dad's stocks," Clary said angrily. "That's what you usually do isn't it?" Clary asked.

Mom recoiled. "That's hardly fair."

There is something wrong. Very wrong.

"Look, go if you want to go. I don't care. I'll stay here without you. I can work; I can get a job at Starbucks or something. Simon said they're always hiring. I'm old enough to take care of myself—"

"No!" The sharpness in Mom's voice made Clary jump. "I'll pay you back for the art classes Clary. But you are coming with us. It isn't optional. You're too young to stay here on your own. Something could happen."

"Like what? What could happen?" Clary demanded.

There was a crash and all three of us glance back at Luke who seemed to have knocked over a framed picture. "I'm turning eighteen in a few days, you can't make me go." I said in the same tone I've been talking in since Mom walked in.

"I'm leaving," Luke said after setting the picture back.

"Wait," Mom said hurrying after him.

We twisted around on the sofa and strained to eavesdrop. "…Bane," Mom was saying. "I've been calling him and calling him for the past three weeks. His voicemail says he's in Tanzania. What am I supposed to do?"

"Jocelyn. You can't keep going to him forever."

"But Clary and Lynnie—"

"Aren't Jonathon," Luke hissed. "You've never been the same since it happened, the girls _aren't Jonathon_."

I glanced at the frame of the man—Jonathon Clark—that I don't even remember meeting in the first year of my life. He had rusty colored hair like Clary's and he was wearing military dress. The man crashed into a tree before Clary was even born. _What does our father have to do with anything?_

"I can't just keep them at home, not let them go out. They won't put up with it."

"Of course they won't they're not pets, they're teenagers. One practically an adult and the other well on her way."

"If we were out of the city…" Mom drifted off not knowing where to go with it.

"Talk to them Jocelyn." Luke's voice firm. "I mean it." He reached for the doorknob.

The door flew open and Mom gave a little scream.

"Jesus!" Luke exclaimed.

"Actually, it's just me," said Simon. "Although I've been told the resemblance is startling." I snorted at that. He waved at Clary and me from the door. "You two ready?" He asked.

Jocelyn took her hand away from her mouth. "Simon were you eavesdropping?"

I couldn't contain my laughter and Mom and Luke looked at me. "Mom, you're asking if Captain Clueless was eavesdropping? That is hilarious!" I said.

"I resent that." Simon said.

"That you're hilarious, how sad maybe you could have been a stand up comedian with that type of humor." I said.

"No, that I'm clueless. I'm not." He said.

"It's okay Simon, I'll love you know matter what. You're like the annoying little brother I never wanted." I said and he smiled.

"I'll answer your question Mrs. Fray that no, I wasn't eavesdropping, I just got here." He took a look at Mom's pale face and Luke's grim one. "Is something wrong? Should I go?"

"Don't bother," Luke said, "I think we're done here."

I was watching the exchange and knew Mom wasn't finished ruining our lives just yet. I know she loves us and we love her, but right now I don't really like her all that much. I watched as Simon stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking uncertain. "I can come back later," he said. "Really. It's no problem."

Mom looked relieved and began, "That might—" until I cut her off that is.

"No!" I burst. "We're ready." I said urgently.

"Forget it, Simon. We're leaving," she said pulling her and me to the door. I grabbed my camera bag and she her messenger bag.

"Later, Ma," I said and Clary gave her clipped 'see you later, Mom.'

"Don't you think we should talk about this?" She tried desperately.

"Face it Ma, we'll have plenty of time to talk on 'vacation,'" I said and a livid Clary dragged Simon and me out of the building calling over her shoulder to Mom, "Don't wait up."

Simon also called a, "Bye, Mrs. Fray! Have a nice evening!"

"Oh, shut _up, _Simon," Clary snapped and slammed the door behind us.

.

.

.

"Clary, will you calm down already? Yeah, Mom's a big mystery, it really annoys me too just shut it, doll," I said and she gave me a look, "For me, okay? You're not the only one who has to deal with this insanity. Whenever you're not grounded, I am, and how do you think I feel about this, huh? I'm turning eighteen, yeah I made the argument that I wouldn't go but I know in the end she'll drag me kicking and screaming. I'll be an adult by law, but not by standard." I said glumly.

Yeah, I'm rebellious. I stand up for Clary, when Mom gives her the third degree over nothing. I am an adrenalin junkie and interested in things that Mom doesn't deem important – like my bout with fencing lessons – but somehow when it comes down to it I listen to her when I feel something's wrong and right now I can _feel _that something is very wrong. I let Clary drag me off and didn't force her to stay behind, because then she would have exploded and it wouldn't have been pretty.

I feel better being with Clary anyway. When I'm with her I'm sure she's safe, I'll protect my baby sister. Yeah, she is usually never walking the streets of big bad Brooklyn – funny – alone, but bony little Simon, with his witty comments, isn't exactly someone I could rely on if something dangerous was going down and Clary was there. What it comes down to, the boy can't throw a punch to save his life; believe me I've seen him try.

We were on our way to the poetry slam the humidity thick in the air. "Why does my hair have to frizz and yours looks perfect?" Clary complained as she tried to tame her wild red curls as we walked. I grinned finding the change of subject amusing. "Just luck, I guess." I said as I ran a hand through my smooth strawberry blond curls that reached the middle of my back contrasting tremendously with my navy blue, dark blue, and cerulean striped short sleeved unbuttoned shirt with a navy blue tank top beneath it.

Simon and Clary talked about his band for a bit. I offered my opinion here and there to them. They were usually laughed at by Clary and received a mock sour look from Simon. "We're choosing between Sea Vegetable Experience and Rock Solid Panda." Simon told us about the band names that they came up with.

Clary and I shook our heads. "Those are both terrible." Clary told him.

"If you want your first gig to not judge you on your horrible name and have this be your last I would choose something less dumb and more creative. C'mon with all those annoy witty comments there had to be something." I said with a smile.

"Eric suggested Lawn Chair Crisis." He said that and I burst out laughing.

"Maybe Eric should stick to gaming." Clary offered.

Soon enough we walked into the Java Jones and the band talk ceased. I forced myself not to laugh when Simon was talking about his girlfriendless state and then trying hard not to slap him when I heard the requirements his friend gave him to follow. A girl has to have a rockin' bod? Seriously could his friend Eric be more of a sexist pig!

Clary pulled me and Simon down onto a love seat with her. She was squeezed in the middle and both Simon and I on the ends.

The sexist pig – Eric – was on stage already stinking up the place with his horrible poetry. I can't believe Simon and his band mates are here to support _this_? I spaced out. Not hearing just surveying my surroundings. Until Clary's eyes focused on something and my uninterested eyes drug to the same place. There was a blond boy sitting there trying to cover his laugh with a cough. Simon looked as well, to the green couch where the boy was sitting, only he looked confused like he was seeing nothing.

He had metal cuffs around either wrist and from one there seemed to be a bone handle of a knife. He was looking right at Clary, as she, Simon, and me all stared at that spot only it looked like Simon was more confused than anything, like he wasn't seeing this boy. He lifted his left hand which had a glittering ring on his slim finger, and waved at her in a way that radiated his arrogance and cockiness. He got up and walked unhurriedly toward the door.

Clary shifted and Simon called her name and put his hand on her arm. "I'll be back," she said and then sprang off. I looked at Simon, "hold our spots will ya?" I asked and he nodded as I walked briskly to the doors following my sister as she followed that boy that I had never seen before and didn't like the looks of. He looked dangerous; I'm not leaving my baby sister alone with someone who looked like he did. I like danger, but she isn't aloud to.

"_Nice_ try. And you were eavesdropping, too. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?" Clary said as I pushed the doors open.

"And tell them what?" The boy said witheringly. "That invisible people are following you? Trust me, little girl, the police aren't going to arrest someone they can't see."

"I told you before, my name is not little girl, its Clary," she said between her teeth.

"You look pretty visible to me." I said in an annoyed tone as the boy shifted his gaze from Clary to me. I stood at respectable five-feet-six-inches half a foot taller than my baby sister. "And who are you and why are you bothering, Clary?" I asked annoyed.

"Jace," he said with a smirk. "And I'm not bothering your friend."

I scowled at him and rolled my eyes. "Clary's my sister," I said shortly, "and I know her well enough that she isn't flattered that you had the tendency to call her little girl, kid, because her name is Clary like she pointed out." I said.

"I know," he said. "Pretty name. Like the herb, clary sage. In the old days people thought eating seeds would let you see the Fair Folk. Did you know that?"

"What are you even talking about? What's with the freaking riddles?" I said my annoyance growing with this kid with each word coming out of his mouth.

"You both don't know much, do you?" He said and my hands were by my sides clenched in my irritation. There was a lazy contempt in his golden eyes. "You seem to be mundanes like any other mundanes, yet you can see me. It's a conundrum."

"What's a mundane?" Clary asked.

I rolled my light golden brown eyes. "Someone of the human world. Someone like you." Jace said.

I groaned. "Before I just thought you were annoying and now I think you are insane. Who isn't from the human world?!" I said exasperated.

"_You're _human." Clary stated.

"I am," he said. "But I'm not like you." There was a defensiveness to his tone. He didn't sound like he cared if we believed him or not.

"You think you're better. That's why you laughing at us?" Clary asked.

"I was laughing at _you _because declarations of love amuse me, especially unrequited," he said. "And because your Simon is one of the most mundane mundanes I've ever encountered. And because Hodge thought that you might be dangerous – and if he knew about you he would have thought even more so," he glanced at me as he said the last bit and then at both of us. "But if you are you certainly don't know it."

"I'm dangerous? I saw you kill someone last night. I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs—" Clary exclaimed.

"That wasn't all of it was it," I knew by her tone that she drifted off. But I gripped her shoulder and pulled her closer to me and further away from Jace anyhow. I pulled her slightly behind me.

"I may be a killer," Jace said, "but at least I know what I am. Can you say the same?"

"I'm an ordinary human like you said." Clary said.

"Yeah and I'm her human older sister and future Police Officer of the State of New York and someone who is not afraid to kick some ass." I said glaring at him.

"Who's Hodge?" Clary asked.

"My tutor. And I wouldn't be so quick to brand myself if I were you." He leaned forward. "Let me see your right hand," he said to Clary.

"My right hand?" She echoed and he nodded. "If I show you my hand, will you leave me alone?"

"Certainly." His voice edged with amusement.

He took her hand in his and turned it over. "Nothing." He sounded almost disappointed. "You're not left-handed, are you?"

"No. Why?" She asked confused.

"Most Shadowhunter children get Marked on their right hands—or left if they're left-handed like I am—when they're still young. It's a permanent rune that lends extra skill with weapons."

He showed us his left hand. And Clary immediately said, "I don't see anything?"

"Even though, I can't stand this kid already, you know Clare that patience is virtue. But I still think he's crazy." I said with a smirk at my last comment.

"Let your mind relax," he suggested. "Wait for it to come to you. Like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."

"Crazy," I said in my ironic tone and then I saw the lines going across his knuckles, the long joints of his fingers. The black design on the back of his hand I blinked and then it was gone, "A tattoo?" Clary asked.

He smiled smugly and lowered his hand. "I thought you could do it. And it's not a tattoo—It's a Mark. Their runes burned into your skin."

"They make you use weapons better?" Clary asked, evidently finding this hard to believe.

"Burned into your skin? That's not strange at all." I quipped.

"Different Marks do different things. Some are permanent but majority vanish when they've been used." Jace explained.

"That's why your arms aren't all linked up today even when I concentrate?" Clary inquired thoroughly confusing me.

"That's exactly why." He sounded pleased with himself.

"The Mark on your hand kind of reminded me of your tattoo, Lynnie." Clary said to me and I sighed. Open up a can of worms over nothing why don't ya.

"Really?" Jace quirked an eyebrow. "Your name's Lynnie, now isn't it?" He asked me.

"Well it's not Clary or Simon so I think you made the right guess there, Jace." I said sarcastically. "Oh, and it's a tattoo I designed myself. No correlation to any of this." I insisted. "I just wanted one for the longest time. So I got one on a bet, it was a win-win situation." I grinned.

"What's it look like?" Jace asked.

"_That _is none of your business." I said pulling down the back of my navy tank top.

"It's a bunch of swirling on your lower back," Clary said and I elbowed her. "What!" She responded.

"That probably isn't." He said sounding skeptical. "I knew you had the Sight, at least," he said to Clary. "And you showed you had as well," he said to me. "It's nearly dark. We should go."

"We? We are not going anywhere." I said defensively.

"I thought you said you were going to leave me alone?" Clary told him.

"I lied," not sounding the least bit embarrassed. "Hodge said to bring you into the Institute with me. He wants to talk to you. And you as well Lynnie."

"Why?" I asked in a crisp tone.

"Because you both know the truth now," Jace said. "There hasn't been a mundane who knew about us in at least a hundred years."

"About _us_? You mean people like you. People who believe in demons."

"People who kill them," said Jace. "We're called Shadowhunters. At least that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names."

"Oh for all of the angels in heaven you sound psychotic." I commented. Jace chuckled I can't understand why, but he did. "I'm gonna go on a hunch here, Downworlders are the run of the mill evils in this world. Vampires, werewolves, warlocks, fairies basically all the mischief causing beings in horror movies and the story books."

"There's a little bit more to it than that, but you got the concept. Look, Hodge will explain all this when you see him."

"We're not going to see him." I said crossing my arms over my chest again.

"That's your problem. You can either come willingly or unwillingly." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh, I'm so scared. I'm practically shaking. Look, kid, I gotta hand it to ya, you look dangerous enough, but you will not get off with threatening my sister." I glared at him and he wasn't perturbed one bit.

There was a buzzing in my back pocket. "Go ahead answer it." Jace said cockily and I glared at him as I pulled it from my back pocket and slid it open pressed it to my ear not even checking who it was just knowing, Xander knew better than to call me the day after a stunt like last night's.

"Mom?" I asked.

"Oh, Lynnie. Oh, thank God." Alarm traveled down my spine as I hear the tone of her voice. She sounded panicked. "Listen to me—"

I began to try and calm her. Despite our fighting, when I'm being agreeable she and I get along rather well, but our personalities are polar at other times. "It's all right, Mom. We're fine. We're on our way home—"

"_No!" _Terror scraped Mom's voice raw and I held phone harder to my ear gripping it tightly. "Don't come home! Do you understand me, Lynnie? Don't you dare come home. You girls go to Simon's go straight to Simon's house and stay there until I can—" Shattering in the background interrupted her. Horror was written plainly in my features.

"Mom!" I shouted. "Mom, are you all right?"

There was a buzzing on the other line. Her voice was cut with the static, "Just promise me you won't come home. Take your sister to Simon's and call Luke—tell him that he's found me—" He voice was drowned out by a crash like splintering wood.

"Who found you?" I asked collectedly I don't need to loose it. My phone has been on speaker this entire time, the conversation for both Clary and I to hear. She snatched the phone away, "Mom! _Mom! MOM!"_ She screeched into the phone. Mom's voice was eerily calm, "I love you, girls."

The phone went dead. Clary threw my phone and broke into several pieces.

I gripped her shoulders and had her face me through the tears. "Clare, you're going to go back to Simon's with him and wait for me there. I'm going to check out what happened at the house." I told her in a calm voice, but I felt like ripping whom ever is causing this into tiny peaces whoever this 'he' that found mom is.

"I'm coming with you." She argued.

"I gotta keep you safe, Clare, do this for me." She shook her head and when Jace called her name she already had her phone in hand and was repeatedly dialing the house, but I had a feeling that she wasn't gonna get anything. I knew something was wrong.

She dropped her phone through shaking fingers and it broke just like mine. Unsalvageable. She then rounded on Jace to give her, his phone and his repeated answer was that he didn't have one.

"Tell me what happened first. I can _help_ you." He told her and in her rage, she struck out at his face. Her nails raking his cheek and he jerked in surprise and she ripped something from him sprinting the direction of the house. Both Jace and I ran after her. I cut off to take a short cut and quickly climbed a tall fence and hoisted myself over jumping down effectively. I found that Jace took the same route I had.

I bound through the yard, I knew better than to yell for her, if whatever was after Mom was still here I didn't want to alert of my arrival. I went in the back way and took the stairs two at a time. I found that our door was already slightly ajar and I pushed it open. I grabbed my field hockey stick that was leaning against a shelf and walked silently, I was worried. God, I was so worried.

I heard Clary scream and the time for being careful was over and I ran to her. She was lying in Mom's room on the floor with a huge black _thing_ which was the best way to describe it on beside her, without a doubt, dead. She was covered with some slimy stuff covering her.

"Oh, my God." I gasped.

Jace didn't hesitate as I had and scooped her up bringing her out the front. That's when I heard the sirens.

Clary stirred and I thought my heart just about stopped to know that she wasn't dead. "Don't move." Jace warned her. She was lying on grass behind the foliage, to not to be noticed by the police.

"I told you not to move," Jace hissed. "The Ravener demon got you in the back of the neck. It was half-dead so it wasn't much of a sting, but we have to get you to the Institute. I'm sure your dear sister, doesn't have any objections now." Despite the situation I saw one corner of his mouth twitch.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure,_ 'my sister got attacked, by the Ravener demon, can you help her'_ would go over real well. I would be sent to the psyche ward before I finished the sentence."

"That thing – that monster – it talked."

"You've heard a demon talk before." Jace told her gently.

"The demon in Pandemonium—looked like a person." Clary said and I stopped them there.

"Hold on a minute. That's where you met Jace, at Pandemonium, while he was killing a demon that looked like a person? And secondly, this is the second demon you've come across. That's it, you, are not leaving my sight. I can't bare to lose you." I said. Jace tied a cloth to her neck with something that looked like salve Mom used for her much turpentine and paint abused hands to make them soft.

"It was an Eidolon demon. A shape-changer. Raveners look like they look. Not very attractive, but they're too stupid to care."

Clary heaved herself into a sitting position. "The police are here, maybe we should—" She croaked out.

Jace cut her off. "There's nothing we can do. Somebody probably heard you screaming and reported it. Ten to one those aren't real police officers. Demons have their way of hiding their tracks."

"No argument from me there." I said as I glanced at the officers. I saw a slim blond and her hand was fleshless, completely skeletal. That's terrific.

"My mom," Clary forced out.

"There's Ravener's poison coursing through your veins _right now_. You'll be dead in an hour if you don't come with me." He got to his feet and pulled her upright.

"We'll find her Clare. After all this is sorted out, okay?" I was placating her at the moment. 'We' are not going to be doing anything. 'I' am going to find this out without putting Clary in danger. I want to keep her as safe as possible.

Clary looked up and saw what I had. "Her hand—"

"I told you they might be demons." He glanced at the back of the house, "We have to get out of here can we go through the alley?"

She whimpered and I knew she was in pain. He gripped griped her wrist turning the white vulnerable part up, and put what looked like overlapping circled resembling a tattoo, but I know better from our earlier chat. He caught her just about the time when she was going to collapse.

He made a hand motion and I knew he wanted to do the same thing. I gave him my wrist. "If this thing does anything to me or my sister, you are in for it Jace." I warned.

He swung Clary lightly into his arms. "This will hide you…temporarily." I saw him close up a blade and slide it into his belt, "My stele," he told me and I just nodded to acknowledge.

"She better be all right, because who ever is responsible better hope that I never find them if she's not." I said in my coolly calm and right now deadly tone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note:__ disclaimer – Mortal Instruments is not mine and never will be. Jaclyn-Christina Fray (or Jay or Jac or Lynnie) is all I have claim to. HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!_

Angels Revealed

+Chapter 2+

I'm exhausted. My muscles feel so heavy and fatigued to a point of pain, but I will not sleep. My butt was parked in a chair beside the bed where my sister lay, motionless and much more pale than usual. I haven't seen a flutter of her lashes or a twitch of any sort in three days; I looked on with bleary eyes. I haven't left this spot in three days; I refused to talk to that Hodge, until my sister comes around. _If she comes around. _I dropped my head into my hands.

I wasn't the only one in the room, however. There was a raven haired, blue eyed, curvy, pale skinned girl and a slightly older boy that had similar features to her, only he was taller. They were whispering among themselves, not disturbing my brooding over what happened. I feel like I'm a bad sister, that I didn't do more to prevent this and she was hurt because of my negligence. The pessimism was consuming me; I barely noticed when Clary's lids twitched.

Her eyes fluttered open and I just about fell out of my chair with relief. I wanted to hug Clary as hard as I could, but that wouldn't be the best idea seeing as she's been unconscious for three days. Instead I gently grabbed her hand and kneeled beside the bed, the rest of the world was unimportant, my baby sister was okay! I smiled and whispered, "You really scared me, girly." She gave me a slight sleepy grin.

"Sorry," she said in a horribly arid voice.

"So, you're finally awake," said a dry voice. "Hodge will be pleased. _We _all thought you'd probably die in your sleep." I glanced over my shoulder and the boy with raven hair a sour look. That is exactly what someone wants to hear. He is such a little jerk.

"Sorry to disappoint you." Clary rasped like sandpaper. "Is this the Institute?" She inquired.

I turned back to Clary and offered a grin and glanced over at raven haired boy again, "she's stronger than you think." I told him my cheeks dimpled with the proud smile spread across my face. My baby sister may be little, but one thing I would never call her would be weak.

————

Hours after Clary woke and I conked out from my agonizing exhaustion, I stood beside my sister in dark washed jeans and a black tank top that Isabelle gave me, in the magnificent library. The introduction between all three people I had yet to meet came quickly, Hodge – the man with gray-streaked hair and a long beaky nose, Isabelle – the jet-black haired and blue eyed girl that generously lent Clary and I some clothes after we cleaned ourselves up, and Alec – who resembled his sister Isabelle greatly, was getting on my last nerve.

I am beginning to think my mother's questions and lecturing and just plain old ranting was heaven compared to Alec and his pessimism and disbelief and just unadulterated dislike toward Clary and myself. There was the little bit about why our mother was attacked if she had no correlation to their world, how Clary killed the Ravener, and Alec brought up the point of that we couldn't stay here – at the Institute – because we are mundanes and are not supposed to know of the clandestine world of the Shadowhunter: fairies, warlock, demons, vampires, werewolves… etcetera.

"They're not mundane. It explains why they can see us, when it was just Clary it could have just been a coincidence something that a mundane was born with, but not meant to have; with Lynnie being able to see us and being Clary's sister. They must have Clave blood." Jace told Hodge after he told that he was going to notify the Clave of our being here.

"But we aren't." Clary said. "We couldn't."

"You must," Jace said without looking at us. "If you didn't the Mark I made on your arms would have…"

"Jace, that's enough no need to frighten them further." Hodge said displeasure evident in his voice.

"But I was right, wasn't I? It explains what happened to their mother, too. If she was a Shadowhunter in exile, she might well have Downworld enemies." Jace said on a role that made a world of sense. It made more sense than my lack of childhood memories, mystery of my mother, void memory that should be where my father is kept close to my heart it was way clearer than my blank childhood memory bank.

"Our mother wasn't a Shadowhunter!" Clary exclaimed. "Tell them Lynnie!" She turned to me; she really wanted to prove a point. She must think I would remember, but all I've got is when I started kindergarten when I was six, if she was a Shadowhunter – big emphasis on _was _– I don't have any recollection of it.

"Mom's always been an artist. Not exactly the aggressive type." I said looking around in mock boredom. Not really answering the question directly, but that went without notice.

"Your father, then," Jace said. "What about him?" My eyes collided with Jace's and I narrowed them. My dad has always been a sore spot with me. Yeah, Luke was an incredible _father _figure, but I wanted the real thing.

"He died before Clary was born." I supplied bitterly. Jace flinched, almost imperceptibly.

"But what do _you_ remember?" Jace pressed.

"Nothing! I don't remember anything, okay! Mom only ever said he was in the Army or Navy or whatever." I growled out. This is the reason why I'm enrolling into the Police Academy fresh out of high school next summer. I need some way to take out pent-up aggression and criminals seem like the perfect recipients, kick boxing just isn't good enough.

It was Alec who spoke after the rising tension that was created by my little outburst. "It's possible," he said uncertainly. "If their father was a Shadowhunter, and her mother a mundane—well we all know it's against the Law to marry a mundie. Maybe they were in hiding."

"My mother would have told us," Clary said. I really don't know what to think of our mother right now. It's like the woman I have known all my life is a complete stranger she knew me to all my entirety, except various dangerous stunts I've pulled that would have given her a coronary. But she never spoke of herself or my early childhood. There are no baby pictures of me, but a six year old me and a three year old Clary and none of me or even mom with our father. The only picture of him was the one that sat on the mantle, in his military uniform.

"Not necessarily," said Jace. "We all have secrets."

My eyes slid shut for a moment and brought a hand over my face dragging it through my strawberry blond curls releasing an annoyed sigh. "Luke," Clary said guilt creeping over her features. "Our friend. He would know. It's been three days—he must be frantic. Can I call him?" She turned to Jace. "Please."

Jace hesitated, but with Hodge's nod and when he moved aside from the desk. Next to a globe made of beaten brass, was and old fashioned black telephone with a silver rotary dial. I walked over with Clary and she lifted it to her ear. I pushed her fumbling fingers away from the rotary dial and spun it to Luke's number.

I bent a bit so both Clary and I could listen to what Luke said. I missed him, he was practically family to us. On the third ring he picked up. "Hello?"

"Luke!" Clary leaned back on the desk I was resting my hip against, basically sagging in relief. "It's me. It's Clary."

"Clary." We could hear the relief in his voice and a small smile played around my lips. "You and Lynnie are alright?"

"We're fine," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't call before. Luke, my mom—"

He knew already, so he cut her off before she could even finish. "I know the police were here."

"Then you haven't heard from her." Any hope that was in my baby sister's voice quickly fled with no new of mom. "What did the police say?"

"Just that she was missing." He told her but with the whole skeleton hand policewoman and all I don't have that much faith in New York's finest at the moment. "Where are you?"

"We're in the city," Clary said. "I don't know where exactly. With some friends. My wallet's gone, though. If you've got some cash, I could take a cab to your place—"

"No," he said shortly.

The phone slipped from Clary's hand. She caught it. "What?"

I remained silent. I could feel anger bubbling already anticipating him to light the fuse to make me explode. "No," he said. "It's too dangerous. You can't come here."

"We could call—" Clary began but look stopped that thought.

"Look." His voice was hard. "Whatever your mother's gotten herself mixed up in, it's nothing to do with me. You're better off where you are."

"But I don't want to stay here." I could hear the whine in Clary's voice like she was a child. "I don't know these people. You—"

"I'm _not _your father, Clary. I've told you that before." Luke told her in an impatient tone and that's when I snapped and snatched the phone away from Clary.

"I thought you cared about us!" I yelled into the phone. "Or at least for Clary. Now I know, I can only count on myself to help us. We won't be asking you any favors again! Don't worry, but if anything bad happens I hope it weighs on your conscience like a ton of lead."

"Jaclyn—" He tried to fix his mistake.

"Save it!" I exclaimed seething. "Go to Hell." I told him in a cold voice and I slammed the phone down.

"Lynnie, Lynnie I'm sure—"

I cut Clary off. "No, no. Clary this is not gonna all work out." I said in a defeated voice. "I have no idea what to do. I'm supposed to be here for you and protect you and what happens you almost get yourself killed by something that isn' supposed to fucking exist. But no, of course does!" I rambled hopelessly.

"Lynnie—" Clary tried again, but I crushed her into my chest with a hug. "I know I'm acting like a crazy person. I'm just worried. About you…and Mom." I said quietly as I eased up my hug to look into her green eyes that were rimmed with tears.

"I take it he wasn't very happy to hear from you?" Jace stated leaning against the armed chair Alec was sitting in.

"What was your first clue Sherlock?" I said with an agitated look on my face.

"I think I'd like to talk with Clary and Lynnie," said Hodge. "Alone."

Alec stood up. "Fine. We'll leave you to it."

"That's hardly fair," Jace objected. I'm the one who found them. I'm the one who saved Clary's life and probably Lynnie's too because she was gonna run blind into her house with a demon there! You want me here, don't you?" he appealed, turning to Clary.

Alec laughed when Clary didn't say anything. I could see her tears rimming her eyes, she was uncomfortable here, and I wish I could take her somewhere familiar but that was nixed with Luke being a complete clod.

"Not everyone wants you all the time, Jace," Alec said.

"Don't be ridiculous." Jace replied.

"Oh, he's not being ridiculous, Blondie." I told him.

"Fine, then. We'll be in the weapon's room." He said in a disappointed tone and added to me, "Happy now, Ginger?" Ginger. Unfortunately, my strawberry blond hair isn't a light blond and not a fiery red like my baby sister's tresses, but the crude ginger color. When I was younger it was a lot lighter, like an ash blond color with a strawberry blond twinge and strips of platinum blond, until I dyed my whole head strawberry blond. It was darker than I expected.

"Ecstatic." I said and offered him a bright mock smile. I turned to Hodge. "Not to be rude, but you might just want to talk to Clary, because frankly I have nothing to say." I told him.

I don't really give a damn, what Luke says. But I'm not just gonna sit back and wait for everything get a whole lot worse. He knows more than he's letting on and that relief in the beginning of the call and the heartlessness at the end seemed shifty. He's hiding something and I intend to find out, screw what he says.

Hodge ignored that statement and I sank into couch with my baby sister. I held her hand, squeezing it slightly in reassurance. I'm gonna make things right for my sister, she deserves it. I was staring off into space for awhile, absentmindedly comforting Clary. Hodge silenced that train of thought, "Would you like some tea, Lynnie?"

"No, thank you." I answered – ugh, I hate tea – and he proceeded to ask Clary. "I don't want tea," Clary told him with muffled force. "I want to find my mother. I want to find out who ever took her in the first place, and kill them." I was shell shocked by her response. I was at a loss for words for a moment, however, Hodge seemed to have anticipated as much, but I hadn't, from any other person certainly, but not Clary.

"Unfortunately," said Hodge, "we're all out of bitter revenge at the moment, it's either tea or nothing."

"Clary—" I was going to try to placate her.

Then she turned to me and retorted quickly, "It's not like you weren't thinking the same thing Lynnie. Just because you're older—"

"That's right. I am older and I'm not letting you do something stupid, let alone dangerous. Do you think mom would want you to get hurt trying to find her or worse? Clary sometimes I even wonder if you have a brain under those curls." I told her in full big sister mode.

"Do you think she would want anything to happen to you, Lynnie? No! She wouldn't."

"No," I said and she huffed in aggravation.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" She asked in a small voice, looking down.

"You start by telling me a little about what happened," Hodge said rummaging in his pocket. He produced a handkerchief—crisply folded—and handed it to her. "The demon you saw in your apartment—was that the first creature you've ever seen? You had no inkling such creatures existed before?"

Clary shook her head, then paused. "One before, I didn't realize what it was. The first time I saw Jace—"

"Right, of course, how foolish of me to forget." Hodge nodded. "In Pandemonium. That was the first time?"

"Yes."

"And you Lynnie?" Hodge inquired.

"Nothing before the night Clary was attacked by the Ravener." I told him.

"And your mother never mentioned them to you—nothing about another world, perhaps, that most people cannot see? Did she seem particularly interested in myths, fairy tales, legends of fantastic—"

"No. She hated all that stuff. She even hated Disney movies. She didn't like me reading manga. She said it was childish." Clary told him. That was mom's views to a T.

Hodge scratched his head. His hair didn't move. "Most peculiar," he murmured.

"Not really," said Clary. "My mother wasn't peculiar. She was the most normal person in the world."

"Normal people don't generally find their homes ransacked by demons," Hodge said, not unkindly.

"Could it have been a mistake?" Clary asked.

"If it had been a mistake," Hodge said and I listened intently, "and you were and ordinary girl, you would not have seen the demon that attacked you—or if you had you would have seen something else entirely: a vicious dog, even another human being. That you could see it, that it spoke to you—"

"How do you know it spoke to me?"

"Jace reported that you said 'It talked.'" Hodge replied to her.

"It hissed." Clary shivered, remembering, I assume. "It talked about wanting to eat me, but I think it wasn't supposed to."

I cringed, I still feel immensely guilty for almost letting my baby sister get killed when she was with me not even five minutes before. I'm a horrible sister. I'm gonna protect her, I'm not gonna let anything hurt her that bad ever again.

"Raveners are generally under the control of a stronger demon. They're not very bright or capable on their own," explained Hodge. "Did it say what its master was looking for?"

Clary paused and thought. "It said something about a Valentine, but—"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _Valentine_, that's familiar. Very familiar frankly and I wasn't the only one who thought so. Hodge jerked upright, so abruptly that his large black bird, Hugo, who had been resting on his shoulder comfortably, launched himself into the air with an irritable caw. "_Valentine?"_

"Yes," Clary said. "I heard the same name in Pandemonium from the boy—I mean, the demon—"

"I've heard that name before." I told them and they both looked at me. Clary in confusion and Hodge with curiosity. "Clary you know the little herb shop near the Coffee Bean?" I asked her and she nodded and Hodge listened intently. "I went in there after my shift ended one day and—"

"Mom told you not to go in there." Clary dictated.

I rolled my eyes. "If you haven't noticed by now, Clare, I play by my own rules.

"Well, I went into the little shop and Kitty, the woman who runs the place, all but tied me to the chair. She pushed me into the back room and slammed me down onto the seat. She just started rambling how I '_had a future that would affect them all' _ but I don't know what she meant by that. She told me that my future was practically palatable.

"She said I was blind to my origins and that I live the way _they _do without making a difference. She read my palm, and shrieked pushing it away. She mumbling that she always knew Valentine wasn't gone, that he would return and through my future she saw that I could either enable him or be a factor to his destruction.

"Then she shoved me from the shop and said never to come there again. That my presence there was a danger to her and that she didn't want to associate with me. That we shouldn't be associating in the first place and what she thought I was, was completely different from what I am. I barely understood anything the woman said. I just thought she was a crock, but I don't know.

"Who is this dude anyway?" I asked.

"It's a name we all know," Hodge said shortly. His voice was steady, but we could see the slight tremble of his hands. Hugo back on his shoulder ruffled his shoulder uneasily.

"A demon?" Clary asked.

"No. Valentine is—_was—_a Shadowhunter."

"A Shadowhunter? Why did you say was?"

"Because he's been dead." Hodge said flatly. "He's been dead for fifteen years."

It sounds like that '_was'_ meant more than his dying. Like this dude had a major Napoleon Complex and the fact that Kitty was ranting about Valentine I have a feeling he's about to rise from the 'dead.' I have a precognition that him coming back would be a bad thing for everyone. When one has absolute power, it corrupts absolutely. Once one has it they will fight to the death to keep it and enhance it.

"Could it be someone else? Someone with the same name?" Clary inquired and I snorted.

Hodge let out a humorless bark. "No. No but it could have been someone using his name to send a message." He stood up from his chair and placed his hands on his desk. "And this would be the time to do it."

"Why now?" Clary asked.

"Because of the Accords. The peace negotiations with the Downworlders." Hodge paused. "Forgive me, this must be very confusing for you."

"You think?" Clary quipped sarcasm oozing from her tone.

————

"So Shadowhunters are descendents of angels. All because Angel Raziel mixed his blood with that of the blood of men in this Mortal Cup that's how Shadowhunters were created and all the children of a Shadowhunter would be Shadowhunters as well. But the cup – when it was still around – was only used when the ranks were complete depleted?" I summarized Hodge's lengthy explanation.

"Yes." He confirmed.

"But what happened how was the cup destroyed?" I asked.

"Valentine set a great fire and burned himself to death along with his family, his wife, and his two children – a son and a daughter. Scorched the land black. No one will build there still. They say the land is cursed." Hodge explained. I felt like I was being torn up from inside, my head felt like it would split any moment, and my breath was lost to me. I couldn't make heads or tails of my reaction, I just sat there immobile and listened.

"Is it?" Clary asked.

"Possibly. The Clave hands down curses on occasion as a punishment for breaking the Law. Valentine broke the greatest Law of all—he took up arms against his fellow Shadowhunters and slew them. He and his group, the Circle, killed dozens of their brethren along with hundreds of Downworlders during the last Accords. They were only barely defeated."

"Why would he turn on other Shadowhunters?" Clary asked.

"He didn't approve of the Accords. He despised Downworlders and felt that they should be slaughtered, wholesale, to keep this world pure for human beings. Though the Downworlders are not demons, not invaders, he felt they were demonic in nature, and that that was enough. The Clave did not agree—they felt the Downworlders was necessary if we were ever to drive off demonkind for good. And who could argue , really, that Fair Folk do not belong in this world, when they have been here longer than we have?"

"Did the Accords get signed?" Clary asked.

"Yes, they were signed. When the Downworlders saw the Clave turn on Valentine and his Circle in their defense, they realized Shadowhunters were not their enemies. Ironically, with his insurrection Valentine made the Accord possible." The pain rose in my body and I abruptly stood up and both Hodge and Clary's eyes fell on me.

"I can't breath." I said in a strangled voice as I briskly walked from the room and into the elevator out of the Institution. The sensation was excruciating and took shallow breaths trying to regulate my frantic breaths that were incited by something. I don't know what brought this on, but oddly it's happened before. It was always weird random things. Things that seemed familiar but I have never witnessed in my life. Things I have never done.

The waterlogged air made it harder to breath, yet it felt less dense than the air inside. I dropped myself down onto curb, and let my throbbing head rest in my shaky hands. My head tried to focus in on the source of what is causing the pain, but that only made it worse so I was forced to do the contrary. I pushed all of the queries to the back of my mind the pain slowly dulling.

I thought though. I wonder what I have done to be punished, what Clary has done. To have our father dead and then our mother taken. To have a demon almost kill Clary and to know that this is not the end of it.

.

.

.

Clary and I walked into the "weapons room" and when the door shut behind us both Alec and Jace looked up. "Where's Hodge?" One of the boys asked, but I was too engrossed in looking at the weapons that hung on the metal walls.

"He's writing a letter to the Silent Brothers." Clary told them.

I took my fascinated eyes off the weapons and moved forward to the table leaning on it slightly. "So…what are you doing?" I asked, bored.

"Putting the last touches to these." Jace moved slightly so I could see three slim wands of a dully glowing silver. They did not look sharp or particularly dangerous. "Sanvi, Sansanvi, Semangelaf. They're seraph blades."

"Those don't look like knives. How did you make them? Magic?" Clary asked.

Alec looked horrified, as if she'd asked him to put on a tutu and execute a perfect pirouette. "The funny thing about mundies," Jace said, to nobody in particular, "is how obsessed with magic they are for a bunch of people who don't even know what the word means."

"Clare, we know about magic just as much as we know how to speak Japanese. Magic seems like a boring explanation that people use for things they don't understand, to me anyways. If I can see it and I can touch it, then it's real. Call me skeptic, but I didn't grow up on believing, I grew up questioning what to believe." I spoke absently.

"I know what magic means," Clary snapped.

"No, you don't, you think you do. Magic is a dark elemental force, not just a lot of sparkly wands and crystal balls and talking goldfish." Jace said and I snorted.

"I never said it was a lot of talking goldfish, you—" Clary retorted.

Jace waved a hand, cutting her off. "Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie."

"You're driveling," Clary observed.

"I'm not," said Jace, with great dignity.

"Yes, you are," said Alec, rather unexpectedly. "Look, we don't do magic, okay?" He added looking at Clary more than me. "That's all you need to know about it."

Clary looked like she was about to snap, but instead contained herself. She took deep calming breath before she spoke. "Hodge said I can go home."

I froze and looked at her, _"He said what?"_ Jace and I asked in unison.

"I don't remember being there for that part," I said skeptically.

"To look through our mother's things," she amended. "If you go with us."

"Clare, I don't—" I began but Clary cut me short.

"If you really want to prove that our mom or dad was a Shadowhunter, we should look through my mom's things. What's left of them." Clary offered.

"Down the rabbit hole." Jace grinned crookedly. "Good idea. If we go right now, we should have another three, four hours of daylight." Jace told her as his answer.

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. You're not going." I said to Clary. A look of outrage engulfed her features, bit before she could start I continued. "And if she's not going, neither are you, hot shot." I told Jace.

"Lynnie—" Clary started.

"No. I have things to do anyway. I'll go – alone." I told them.

"Are you looking to get yourself killed. If there was a demon there you won't stand a chance." Alec said to me matter-of-factly and a bit cocky.

My scorching gaze connected with his and he flinched slight with its intensity. "If Isabelle was lying on the ground dying and you knew that you could do nothing to save her, would you honestly drag her back to the same place where she was attacked? Where there was – I wouldn't doubt it – something equally if not more dangerous waiting in the place? Alec, I'm mundane and weird as hell, but don't you dare insult me like you just had!" I said in a soft deadly voice while I leaned close, resting my hands on the arm rests of his chair. I backed up and turned my back to him yet again.

"Why not let me come with you?" Jace asked.

"Because I owe you, too much already. You saved my sister, but I don't need saving. If a demon is stupid enough to get in my way, it'll be left in pieces." I reached up to gently trace my crystal pendent when my hand came up empty, shocked filled me and I abruptly left retracing my steps, but it was nowhere in the Institute. I have never taken off that long silver chain with the clear glossy crystal weighing it down. It was odd, but when I think back I haven't had that slight weight around my neck for days ever since…

Brody.

————

"What's so special about this necklace?" Jace pestered as he and Clary walked behind me.

"Jace, I swear if you don't shut it…"

"You'll do what, hit me?" He laughed. He can judge me all he likes, but all it takes is to be hit in the right spot.

Even though Jace was rather tall, he was in no hurry so he didn't feel the need to keep up with my brisk footsteps as we walked the streets of Manhattan. I came to the building and the doorman smiled at me, knowing me from my frequent visits and held the door for Clary, Jace, and me.

I made it to the elevator and pressed the up button and soon it dinged and opened for the three of us to enter. I pressed the number of the top floor, the penthouse. It was floor fourteen, but everyone knew it was thirteen, building designers and their superstitions. The elevator doors opened and we stepped into the spacious entrance hall of Brody's place, I wasted no time as my knuckles connected with the solid wooden door.

The door swung open and there he stood. Black cargo shorts resting low on his hips and a black t-shirt that fit to every toned muscle and barefoot. His dark brown curls hung slightly in his hazel eyes and his light skin was as flawless as ever. He leaned against the doorway and gazed at me. "So you're not bored with me after all." Brody said with an incredibly sexy smirk.

"Well…you just seem to always recapture my interest, Mr. Grace." I replied with a toothy dimpled smile as I took a step toward him.

"And why are you here, Ms. Fray?" He teased.

"You know why. You have something of mine." I told him and he grabbed my waist pulling me to him and grinned mischievously before he whispered into my ear, "and what is that?" His breath tickled my neck, sending a tremor down my spine. Then his lips descended upon mine quickly before I pushed him away.

"We're not alone, Brody, cool it." I told him and he shrugged. He had a smirk on his face, the kind like a little kid who a snuck a cookie before dinner and didn't care if you found out or not. I grinned up at him. "You are such an arrogant bastard."

He glanced again slightly at Clary and when his eyes landed on Jace his nonchalant gaze turned into a glare. "Hey Clary," he greeted my baby sister. "Wayland," he said Jace's last name with an edge, so they knew each other? Now that's…weird.

"Grace," Jace replied just as icily.

I rolled my eyes. I pushed Brody's back into the doorframe and squeezed by his form into his place. He followed in after me as I did a mad sweep of his house. I walked into his bedroom and saw as clear as day my long silver necklace with the clear crystal glimmering in the light peaking in the room from behind the curtains.

I picked it up and slipped it over my head, letting it hang from my neck where it belongs. I turned around and Brody was standing right behind me.

"I never take this off." I said irritably twirling the crystal in my hands as I glared into his eyes.

"I know," he said with a devilish grin.

"So you thought to get your jollies from taking it off and making your girlfriend nearly have a heart attack?"

"Girlfriend? So we're not on yet another '_break'_? It's hard to keep up with you." Brody said crossing his arms.

"Is my big strong man feeling neglected?" I mocked with a smile and he scowled as I brushed passed him and walked out of the room.

He followed suit and grabbed my hand spinning me around, "What's the matter?" He asked. "You seem high strung, more than usual."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm great, actually." I lied.

"You're lying." He said softly.

"Brody I'm not talking about this." I said with finality to my voice.

"Jay—"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" I snapped coolly. I sighed heavily and kissed him softly on the lips, "I'll tell you," I surmised. "When all this is over, I promise."

"When what is over? Jay, if you're in trouble I—"

"_I'm_ not. Bye Brody." I said.

Clary said bye sweetly as always. And Jace said Brody's last name gruffly before walking through the threshold.

I fingered the crystal hanging from my neck. We got into the elevator heading to the ground floor when Jace asked, "So…what was so special about this necklace."

"My dad gave it to me for my birthday before he died." I said in a voice void of emotion. That is just about the only thing I know about my dad.

————

"Alright, nothing's here." I said when we walked into our apartment.

"They even took the microwave," Clary said. "What could a demon want with our microwave?"

I chuckled. "Maybe, he needed it to warm our bean burritos that were in the freezer because he took the refrigerator too."

I walked over to the wall and traced my fingers against the discolored shapes on the walls where photographs I took once hung of Clary, Mom, and me, and paintings mom did. They took everything.

"I want to see our room," she said to Jace and me.

"If that's what it takes." Jace said.

The three of us walked down the hall and I had a feeling twisting my stomach. Then we came to our closed bedroom door. "Clary, it wasn't closed before…maybe we shouldn't open it." But my words came too late and she had already turned the knob. A gust slammed both Clary and I against the wall behind us and Clary fell to her stomach from the force and I was slammed down onto my knees.

Jace, flat against the wall, was fumbling in his pocket, his face a mask of surprise. Looming over him like a giant in a fairytale was an enormous man, big around as an oak tree, a broad-bladed axe clutched in one gigantic dead-white hand. Tattered filthy rags hung off his grimy skin, and his hair was a single matted tangle, thick with dirt. He stank of poisonous sweat and rotting flesh.

Jace had the seraph blade in his hand. He raised it, calling out: "Sansanvi!"

A blade shot through the tube. The blade was something I had never seen before: clear as glass, with a glowing hilt, wickedly sharp and nearly as long as Jace's forearm. He struck out, slashing the gigantic man, who staggered back with a bellow.

I got to my feet and helped Clary up. Jace raced toward us and pushed us ahead of him and when we made it out he ordered us downstairs. His eyes were glowing excitement. The door gave way under that thing's pounding when Clary I were already down stairs when Jace looked our way and yelled something but it was inaudible over the bellowing of that thing. I grabbed Clary and wrapped my arms around her ducking and flattening is to the wall as much as possible as a wave of heat and stink—and then the axe was flying through the air, slicing toward Jace's head. He ducked and it thunked heavily into the banister, biting deep.

Jace laughed and that seemed to enrage the creature; abandoned of its axe, he lurched at Jace with his enormous fists raised. Jace brought the blade around in an arched sweep, burying the hilt in the giant's shoulder. For a moment the giant stood swaying. Then he lurched forward, his hands outstretched and grasping. Jace stepped aside hastily, but not hastily enough: The enormous fists caught hold of him as the giant staggered and fell, dragging Jace in his wake. Jace cried out once and there was a series of heavy and cracking thumps, and then silence.

Clary and I both got up and walked over to Jace. He was sprawled at the foot of the steps, his arm bent beneath him at an unnatural angle. The giant was still twitching, not quite dead with Jace's blade protruding from its shoulder.

Clary and I needled down beside Jace. "Jace?" Clary asked tentatively. She gently touched his shoulder.

"Is it dead?" He asked.

"Almost," Clary said grimly.

"Hell," he winced. "My legs—"

"Hold still." Clary said as we both pulled on either of his arms and his legs came free. He grunted in pain.

"Is your arm alright?" Clary asked him.

"No. Broken," he said. "Can you reach into my pocket?"

Clary hesitated, nodded. "Which one?"

"Inside jacket, right side. Take out one of the seraph blades and hand it to me." He held still as she nervously slipped her hands into his pocket.

"Thanks," he said.

————

Jace healed himself with an iratze—a healing rune. If you ran into him now you wouldn't have ever thought he was hurt, except for how awful he looks. That thing was Forsaken, basically a human who was Marked way too many times and became a mindless, vicious killer and now he wants to go back upstairs because he wants to see if they're more.

"You should wait here." He told us.

I smirked when I heard the shrill and familiar voice, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. There are more of them from where the first one came from." Jace spun from where he stood on the top of the stairs, Clary turned as well but I was already looking because I saw her door open in my peripheral vision.

"Hello, Madam Dorothea." I greeted. She inclined her head regally. She stood in her doorway of her apartment, dressed in what looked like a tent made of raw purple silk. Gold chains glittered at her wrists and roped her throat. Her long badger-striped hair straggled from the bun pinned to the top of her head.

Jace was still staring. "But…"

"More_ what_?" Clary said.

"More Forsaken," replied Dorothea with a cheerfulness that, I felt, didn't really fit the circumstances. She glanced around the entryway. "You have made a mess, haven't you? I'm sure you weren't planning on cleaning up either. Typical."

"But you're a _mundane_," Jace, finally finishing his sentence.

————

After Jace threatened Dorothea with calling the Silent Brothers—that apparently holds much gravity with anyone who has knowledge of all this—we were admitted into her apartment. But she warned that if he told anyone she helped him he would wake up tomorrow with snakes for hair and an extra set of arms coming from his neck.

"Yikes." Was Jace's reply. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle the laughter at Jace's expression. But he still heard it and gave me the evil eye and I laughed even harder.

"Yikes is right, Jace Wayland."

Clary and Jace walked into the sitting room as Dorothea closed the door. I composed myself and then spoke to Dorothea. "I'm terribly sorry about this. I wouldn't have bothered you if I could help it; it's just curiosity I suppose."

"You're stubborn." She said which didn't make much sense with the apology I was supplying.

"What—" I began but she just continued talking again like I hadn't spoken.

"You're stubborn, that's why you've been getting those pains." She held my palm of my left hand in her hands. "Your Sight has returned I see, but you still have a block on your mind and with your tenacity, you are fighting against the feeble wall holding them in. The pain is self inflicted, trying to will your memories back will not work. You must find whoever put it on your mind and remove it." She looked up at me and my eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

I removed my hand from her grasp and walked forward and went forward to join Jace and Clary.

"Still," Clary said to Jace, "I think we might as well talk to her. What else do we got to lose?"

"Once you've spent a bit more time in our world," Jace said, "you won't ask me that again."

————

"Jackie, tea?" Dorothea asked. I turned away from the bookshelf and saw her smirk and I glared at the old woman.

"Don't call me that." I told her between my teeth while she grinned pleased with herself as I came and sat on the arm of the chair by Clary where she sipped her tea. "And no thank you, I don't like tea." I told her. Oh, what I wouldn't do for a venti caramel macchiato from Starbucks.

Jace made a face after he took a sandwich and bit into the sandwich that he had examined so closely. "Cucumbers," is all Jace says in a response to Clary's stare.

"I always think cucumber sandwiches are just the thing for tea, don't you?" Madam Dorothea inquired, of no one in particular.

I shook my head. "Can't stand either of them. Tea just can't hold a candle to coffee and cucumbers are just gross."

"I hate cucumber." Jace said, and handed the rest of his sandwich to Clary who devoured it. She hasn't eaten anything since the nachos she had with Simon three days ago.

"Cucumber and bergamot," Clary said. "Is there anything else you hate that I should know about?"

Jace looked at Madam Dorothea over the rim of his tea cup. "Liars," he said.

Calmly the old woman set her tea pot down. "You can call me whatever you like. It's true, I'm not a witch. But my mother was."

Jace choked on his tea. "That's impossible."

"Why impossible?" Clary asked curiously.

Jace expelled a breath. "Because they're half-humans, half-demons. All witches and warlocks are crossbreeds. And because they're crossbreeds, they can't have children. They're sterile."

"That must be awful." I said. "Not being able to have children, I mean." It was more to myself than anyone else, but it was heard by Jace and he mumbled a 'not really,' as reply.

"All Downworlders are in some part demon, but only warlocks are the children of demon parents. It's why their parents are the strongest." Jace told Clary and me.

"Vampires and werewolves—they're part demon too? And faeries?" Clary asked.

"Vampires and werewolves are a result of diseases brought from demons from their home dimensions. Most demon diseases are deadly to humans, but these cases they worked strange changes on the infected, without actually killing them. And Faeries—"

"Faeries are fallen angels," said Dorothea, "cast down out of heaven for their pride."

"That's the legend," Jace said. "It's also said that they're the offspring of demons and angels, which always seemed more likely to me. Good and evil, mixing together. Faeries are as beautiful as angels are supposed to be, but they have a lot of mischief and cruelty in them. And you'll notice most of them avoid midday sunlight—"

"For the devil had no power," said Dorothea softly, as if she was reciting an old rhyme, "except in the dark."

"Okay enough with all of this demons and angels crap. Jeez…Jace you're slow. Dorothea was adopted, she admitted she wasn't a witch so drop it already, so you just wasted precious minutes of my life where I could have been doing something rather than sitting on my ass watch you three drinking tea." I said crankily.

"When was the last time you ate anything?" Clary asked and I waved off her concern.

"Yes, Jackie," Dorothea said agreeing with me with a small smile as I glared at her. "I don't have to master magic myself. I have only to watch and guard."

"Guard what?" I asked.

"What indeed?" With a wink the older woman reached forward for a sandwich from the plate that she set down, but found it empty. Clary had eaten them all. Dorothea chuckled. "It's good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays."

"Thanks," Clary said sounding deflated. Madam Dorothea inadvertently made Clary feel like a pig. Clary put down her tea cup with a clatter and Madam Dorothea pounced on it and stared intently, a line appearing between your penciled eyebrows.

"What?" Clary said nervously. "Did I crack the cup?"

"She's reading your tea leaves," Jace said, sounding bored, but he leaned forward along with Clary as Dorothea turned the cup around and around in her thick fingers scowling. I leaned back a bit; if I have a block on my mind she probably has one on hers as well. But since I'm older mine is stronger and I'm trying hard to remember things that someone doesn't want me to remember, things from before Clary was born.

"Is it that bad?" Clary asked.

"It is neither bad nor good. It is confusing." Dorothea said and glanced up at me and then her gaze averted to Jace. "Give me _your_ cup," she commanded.

Jace looked affronted. "But I'm not done with my—"

The old woman snatched the cup from his grasp and splashed the excess tea back into the pot. Frowning she glanced at what remained. "I see violence in your future, a great deal of bloodshed by you and others. You'll fall in love with the wrong person. Also, you have an enemy."

"Only one? That's good news." Jace leaned back in his chair.

"Violence and bloodshed now doesn't that sound fun," I commented sarcastically.

"Let's see yours, since you find this so amusing." Jace said to me and I just smirked.

"Jackie, the life as you know it will change and you will be thrust into the world that Jace lives. It may seem that your fates may lead into one another, be one in the same. You seem like all of this comes so naturally to you." She told. I didn't even bother correcting her on my name this time there was no use but I snorted at her words and shrugged.

"Oh, yeah…practically identical. I see how taking photographs in Central Park will turn into a bloodbath." I scoffed. She looked at me disapprovingly and picked up Clary's cup yet again.

"There is nothing to read here. The images are jumbled, meaningless." She glanced at me, "Has anyone ever put a block on your minds?"

"I forgot to ask, what exactly is a block, I know it retains memories that I guess I'm not wanted to remember by someone, but—" before I even finished Dorothea had started speaking.

"Like a spell that might have concealed your memory, or blocked your Sight."

Clary shook her head. "No, of course not.

Jace leaned forward alertly. "Don't be so hasty," he said. "It's true that she claims not to remember ever having the Sight before this week. Maybe—"

"Maybe I'm a late developer," Clary snapped. "And don't _leer_ at me, just because I said that."

Jace assumed and injured air. "I wasn't going to."

"You were working up to a leer, I could tell." Clary retorted.

"Alright, _children_!" I said. "Okay, Clary, honey, you're not a late developer and it's too weird for us both to start seeing, having this Sight at the same time. When someone mentions something or I see something I get a wonderful sharp pain after trying to focus enough to remember whatever it is the thing reminds me of, it feels like I hit a volted fence."

"Stubborn," Madam Dorothea quipped.

"Yes! I am stubborn, okay, but I want to remember what ever it is I can't. Sometimes it feels like a whole piece of me is missing, a piece I can't remember because of this stupid block!"

————

"Okay, I hope someone's blocking my memory or I'm more screwed up than, I thought, I was. Can we move on please?" I was sick of them mulling over this whole bit. I have better ways to waste my time and frankly, sitting here listening to endless babble is not one of them. Watching my sister choose a tarot card that my mother painted also is filled to the brim with excitement I may not be able to contain myself.

I looked on not amused and quite bored as Clary chose her card. "My mom painted those." I said after Clary pulled out a card, the ace of cups, the love card, oh jeez.

Madam Dorothea looked up at me. "She painted the whole pack. A gift for me."

"So you say," Jace said skeptically.

"I would know her work anywhere, love art, but I'm more of one for capturing it on film rather than drawing. Those were definitely done by my mother."

Jace stood. Acknowledging me words and looked on at Madam Dorothea with his eyes cold. "How well did you know their mother?"

Clary craned her neck. "Jace, you don't have to—"

Madam Dorothea sat back, her cards fanned across her wide chest. "Jocelyn knew what I was, and I knew what she was." I leaned forward at this. "We didn't talk about it much. Sometimes she did favors for me—like painting this pack of cards—and in return I'd tell her the occasional piece of Downworld gossip. There was a name she asked me to keep an ear out for, and I did."

Jace's expression was unreadable. "What name was that?"

"Valentine." She replied.

Clary sat straight up in her chair. "But that's—"

"And you say you knew what Jocelyn was, what do you mean? What was she?" Jace said.

"Jocelyn was what she was," said Dorothea. "But in her past she'd been like you. A Shadowhunter. One of the Clave."

I hopped off the arm of the couch. From all the times that I felt guilty from not telling Mom everything like for my jumping off bridges, like all the freaking deadly things I've done since I was twelve and for every time I came home the morning after a really _hot_ night I hadn't called her, all the times I felt guilty and she lied to me. I only believe what I can see, what I can feel, what I can touch and now I find I am someone who is a descendent of angels?!

I pressed my lips together as I heard Clary argue she would have told us and Jace tell her to not be so sure about that.

I turned back to them with a determined look on my face and barged right into their conversation. "Madam Dorothea, how long have we all been living here exactly?" She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, at my cold calm tone of voice and looked at the way I leaned forward my hands planted on the back of the couch I had been sitting on with my muscles coiled and ready for anything.

"Fourteen years." She told me.

"I only remember twelve." I whispered, more to myself than to anyone in the room. That pain racked through me again and I doubled over.

"Lynnie," Clary squeaked and I felt her hand and brushed her off.

"I'm fine," I said in labored breaths. "Is this supposed to do this, the block thing?" I panted.

"When you had the block put on you I would say, around the time you were six because you must be near eighteen now, it most likely was meant to wipe memories you had. After years and years of being twined thicker and thicker and you more stubborn. With reminders of your past it will cause you pain, trying to break through those magical blockades to your memories." Dorothea said as I began to stand upright.

"You're bleeding," Clary said. I knew from where immediately and pinched my nostrils closed and Clary handed me the napkin – since Dorothea didn't believe in having tissues, weird woman – and held it there. "Yeah, you're completely fine." Clary mumbled sarcastically.

I pointed my finger at her. "You, shut it, alright. I'm fine, Clare."

I sniffled and wiped all traced of blood from my fair skin.

"What I told you is true, of your mother, she chose to live in this house precisely because—" Dorothea began but was interrupted before she could finish.

"Because this is a Sanctuary." Jace said to Dorothea. "Isn't it? Your mother was a Control. She made this space; hidden, protected—it's the perfect spot for Downworlders on the run to hide out. That's what you do isn't it? Hide criminals here?"

"You _would _call them that," Dorothea said. "You're familiar with the motto of the Covenant?"

"Sed lex dura lex," Jace said automatically. "The Law is hard, but it is the Law."

"Sometimes the Law is too hard. I know the Clave would have taken me away from my mother if they could. You want me to let them do the same to others?"

"So you're a philanthropist." Jace's lip curled. "I suppose you expect me to expect me to believe that Downworlders don't pay you handsomely for the privilege of your Sanctuary?"

Dorothea flashed a wide smile to show off her golden molars. "We can't all get off on our looks like you."

Jace looked unmoved by her flattery. "I should tell the Clave about you—"

"You can't!" Clary jumped to her feet again. "You promised."

"I never promised anything." Jace looked mutinous. He strode over to the wall and tore aside one of the velvet hangings. "You want tell me what this is?" He demanded.

"It's just a door, Jace." Clary said. It was softly glowing metal, more buttery than brass but as heavy as iron. The knob had been cast in the shape of an eye.

"Shut up," Jace said angrily. "It's a Portal. Isn't it?"

"Five-dimensional door," said laying the tarot cards back on the table. At Clary's blank look she went into a rant about how not all the dimensions are the same.

"An escape hatch," Jace said. "That's why your mother wanted to live here. So she could flee at a moment's notice."

"Then why didn't she—" Clary began and suddenly broke off horrified. "Because of us," she said. "She wouldn't leave without us that night. So she stayed."

I pulled Clary into me. "It's not your fault Clare. Don't blame yourself babe. Please don't." I murmured to her. Tears welled in her eyes. She pushed me away and past Jace to the door. "I want to see where she would have gone," she said reaching for the door. "I want to see where she was going to escape to—"

"Clary, don't!" I took a step forward.

"Clary, no!" Jace said at the same time as I spoke.

.

.

.

"Ow," I moaned. Falling through that portal thing, oh, I never want to do that again.

"Ouch," Jace said from under me. "Clary you elbowed me." I rolled my eyes at that.

"Well you _landed _on me."

I got up and brushed myself off and saw Jace lever himself up to look down at her. "Well you didn't give me much choice, did you?" He asked. "Not after you decided to leap merrily into that Portal like jumping the F train. You're just lucky it didn't dump us out in East River."

"You didn't have to come after me." She told him.

"He may not have, but I did. And Jace, hon, get off my sister." He didn't move muscle.

"Yes I did," he said. "You're both far too inexperienced to protect yourself in a hostile situation without me."

"That's sweet. Maybe I'll forgive you." Clary said to him.

"Forgive me? For what?"

"For telling me to shut up." She stated.

"I did not…Well, I did, but you were—" I pushed him to the side and helped Clary up and Jace got gracefully to his feet.

"You know where we are right?" I asked rhetorically as we looked at Luke's place.

Clary froze. "This is Luke's house." _Garroway Books. Fine Used, New, and Out-of-Print. Closed Saturdays. _

"He lives in a bookstore?" Jace asked.

I shook my head. "No, he lives behind the store."

"Jace how did we get here? I wasn't thinking here, I wasn't thinking anywhere really."

"You must have been and since we're here anyway…"

"Yeah?" Clary answered urging him to finish his thought.

"What do you want to do?" He asked.

"Leave, I guess," Clary said bitterly. "Luke told us not to come here."

"And you're just going to accept that?" Jace asked her.

"Screw Luke." I said in a cold, uncaring tone.

————

"Please, be careful Clary when you do this, okay?" I warned. Jace made a show of climbing the fence that rattled so violently I thought it might collapse under his weight—now that would be wicked funny. Then once he landed in the bushes, there was an earsplitting yowl to accompany it. Clary and I looked at each other and we climbed the fence and Clary landed with a heap and me with my feet making contact with the dead grass.

"Got him," Jace said sitting on top of the prone intruder, whose arms are up over his head. Jace grabbed his wrist, "Come on, let's see your face—"

"Get the hell off me, you pretentious asshole," the intruder snarled, shoving at Jace. He struggled halfway into a sitting position, his battered glasses knocked askew.

"_Simon_?" Clary and I chorused.

"Oh, God," said Jace, sounding resigned. "And here I'd actually hoped I got hold of something interesting."

"Shut up, Jace!" I said pushing him aside and helping up Simon.

"But what were you doing hiding in Luke's bushes," Clary said brushing leaves out of Simon's hair. He suffered her ministration with glaring bad grace, "That's the part I don't get." Clary told him.

"All right, that's enough. I can fix my own hair, Fray." I rolled my eyes at his little tantrum.

"Oh, c'mon Simon you know you love it." I said ruffling his hair he just manager to settle the way he likes it.

"Did Luke know you were here?" Clary asked stupidly, if Luke knew he was here he wouldn't have been hiding in the bushes.

"Of course he didn't know I was there." Simon spoke and I saw scratch on his cheekbone where blood was welling to the surface. "I've never asked him, but I'm sure he has a pretty stringent policy of random teenagers lurking in his shrubbery."

"You're not random," Clary and I spoke in unison for what seem way too many times for one day.

"He knows that. The main thing is that you're all right." Clary said.

"That _I'm _all right?" Simon laughed, a sharp, unhappy sound. "Clary, do you have any idea what I've been through these past couple of days? The last time I saw was at Java Jones like a bat out of hell, and then you just…disappeared. You never picked up your cell phones either of you—and your home phone was disconnected—I checked the Coffee Bean since Jay's never missed a day and they tell me they fired you when you hadn't turned up without even a call for notice, and then Luke tells me you guys went to Upstate New York but I know you don't have any other relatives. I thought I pissed the both of you off."

"What could you possibly have done?" Clary reached for his hand, but he pulled it back without looking at her.

"I don't know," Simon said. "Something."

Jace, was preoccupied with the stele, chuckled low under his breath and since I was standing near where he was sitting I smacked him in the back of the head. He glanced up at me with 'what the heck was that for' look, but I turned my head to Simon.

"You know it's really hard to genuinely piss me off to the point of not answering your calls. Save for those three days I've always been there for you, Simon, and I always will be. Like I said you're like a little brother to me." I said giving him a warm smile and trying to placate him. But he gave me a look and I glared back. "And since you're alright I could smack that look off your face if you throw it this way again." That cocky look, he should know better.

"You're my best friend," Clary said to him. "I wasn't mad at you."

"Yeah, well, clearly also couldn't be bothered to call me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemonium," Simon pointed out sourly. "After I spent the past three days wondering if you were _dead."_

"I was not shacking up," Clary said, glad of the darkness as the blood rushed on her face.

"And my hair is naturally blond," said Jace. "Just for the record."

"I was with her the whole time and I don't want you ever to bring up my sister _shacking up," _I shuddered. "How you so eloquently put it, ever. I swear that's on your mind far too much." I said and he scoffed.

"So, what have you been doing for the past three days, then?" Simon said, his eyes dark with suspicion. "Do you really have a great-aunt Matilda who contracted avian flu and needed to be nursed back to health?"

"Did he actually say that?"

"No. He said you had gone to visit a sick relative, and phone probably didn't work out of the country. Not that I believed him. After he shooed me off his front porch, I went around the side of the house and looked in the back window. Watched him packing a green duffel bag like he was going away for the weekend. That was when I decided stick around and keep an eye on things."

"He was packing it full of weapons. Knives, a couple daggers, even a sword. Funny thing is that some of the weapons even looked like they were glowing." He glanced between Jace, Clary, and I as sharply as a broad side of sword. "Now are you gonna say I was imagining it?"

"No," Clary said. "I'm not going to say that." She glanced at Jace and said, "I'm going to tell him the truth."

"I know." Jace said bored.

"Aren't you going try and stop me?" Clary asked Jace confused a bit as his lack of argument.

He looked down at the stele in his hand. "My oath to the Covenant binds me," he said. "No such oath binds you." He said to Clary and glanced at me, "You aren't bound either."

————

"One word of Dungeons and Dragons and I swear I will deck you, Simon." I threatened after Clary lengthy explanation of how she was attacked by the Ravener and Shadowhunters and how all the mythical crap that we thought was all the cheesy – I honestly laugh at horror movies – horror movie monsters, created by gothic writers or Hollywood are actually real. There was antagonism between Jace and Simon right from the start. Simon made the very idiotic typical teenage boy responses like pointing out that some female vampires are _hot,_ I honestly wanted to smack him at that moment.

Simon invited himself along and I just shrugged it off. I've known him all my life; I rather have him with me than out in Luke's backyard. However, Jace didn't see it the same way. "_We? _I don't remember inviting you along."

"_Jace,_" Clary said angrily.

Jace smirked and declared he was joking, although it was obvious he wasn't joking in the least bit. "Shall we," he said motioning to Clary and I. I turned the doorknob outside and opened it with ease as the porch light was triggered spilling light over the dark landscape. Clary reached for the spare key and came up empty and began rattling the doorknob in the dark. "It's locked," she lamented and I moved her hands away.

I had my bobby pin in hand and began my work. "Maybe picking Luke's lock isn't the brightest idea, Jay." Simon said nervously.

"Lynnie, he's right," Jace stated. The way he said it sounded as if it was unbelievable that Simon could ever be right and he begrudgingly had to admit it.

"After you," I motioned Jace to the door and he had his stele out and touched it to the door. I saw the look on Simon's face that no number of vampire babes could fix. I whispered to him, "No, you're not like him, Simon. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. You I can tolerate more than Jace love you, hon." I squeezed his shoulder in my hand as we walked through Luke's storage room filled with boxes of books. When something came to me.

"Simon what happened to my camera? I left it behind at the poetry slam, did you grab it?" I asked. I silently prayed.

"Yeah, but when I came to see Luke he took the camera saying he could give it back when you returned from your relative's house." I groaned. Well we're here so I could just get it back.

"The sooner we can find anything, the sooner we're out of here, and the sooner I can get some much needed caffeine." I said and I walked into Clary.

"Ouch," She said in the dark.

"Sorry it's dark."

Soon there was a soft glow animating from Jace, "Witchlight." He explained.

I looked up and saw what looked like medieval shackled on a wall. They were loops of metal attached to a wall. "Are those—"

"Manacles," said Simon, picking his way through the boxes. "That's, uh…"

"Don't say _'kinky.'" _Clary shot him a warning look. "This is Luke we're talking about."

Jace reached his hand inside one of the metal loops and came back with tainted red-brown powdered fingers. Blood. My stomach dropped, no matter how mad I was at Luke, I didn't want him hurt, or anything worse. I wasn't happy with him but I would never wish harm on him.

"Blood." Jace said. "And look. Someone tried to yank these things out of the wall. Tried pretty had by the looks of it."

"Do you think Luke's alright?" Clary asked anxiety obvious in her voice.

Jace lowered his witchlight. "I think we better find out."

"I'm sure he's fine." I grabbed Clary's hand. The statement wasn't convincing I was still trying to convince myself of that fact.


End file.
